Three Men and a Baby
by SummerW
Summary: After the War, Harry takes Teddy to live in America, a new life. Everything is going well until one day, Teddy attracts the attention of two hunters, and so the fun begins... Non-slash HPXSPN Set after DH   ignores Epilogue   and Season 5
1. Prologue

**_A/N: _**This fic is set after DH but ignores the Epilouge. In the SPN world, it takes place after Season 5, so there may be spoilers. This fic is going to be narrated by another character, so i'm sorry if it's really cryptic in this chapter. She becomes clearer and reveals more about herself as the story continues, so bear with me. Anyways, enjoy!

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_**PROLOGUE: The Little Lion Man**_

War has been around since the beginning of time. Every species of life on this earth has experienced it, toyed with it, lived in it and died for it. I, personally, am not a huge fan of War. It take's everything and give very little in return. And the results are always the same, no matter what species is involved. Beings always die, for that is the purpose of War.

Some creatures will tell you many things about War. He rides a fiery, blood-red stallion, carries a humongous sword and smites all kinds. Maybe this is true. Maybe it isn't. What _I _believe, however, is that War lives in the souls of every being, waiting to strike at a moment of weakness, preying on the feeble minded.

The story I am going to tell you began with a War, one that lasted for many years and had a great many fatalities. We pick up this story at the "end" of the War, but for some people it has not yet finished. For some, it probably never will.

Harry Potter was one of those people. He had thought once that when Voldermort had been defeated, he would be able to have something he'd never had before - a normal life. But of course, the stupid naïve little boy was wrong. Not that I can say I _blame_ him, after all that trouble he _does_ deserve to be cut a little slack. But alas, life's a bitch and she was going to squeeze dear little Harry for all his worth.

At first, everything _was_ normal, well as normal as it can get for a teenager who defeated _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_. He was free at last, could go wherever he pleased, do what he wanted. But Harry soon learned that life wasn't as easy as he'd imagined. Soon, people would approach him, asking for his take on the war. They'd question him mercilessly about the deaths of those he loved, stare at him as he passed, whisper rumours about his powers behind his back, avoid him out of fear and suspicion.

This took it's toll on the little lion man, and soon he found himself under stress and unnecessary pressure. His relationships found themselves unravelling as he became quieter, more closed off and personal. His fiancée left him. His friends moved on without him. He lost contact with almost everyone he had once loved and cared about, everyone except Andromeda Tonks and his Godson Teddy.

I think it's safe to say that he is the only thing in Harry's universe, the one thing left to lie and die for. And she, well she did her best to comfort the war torn boy. And he loved her for it, but that love was not to last. She died when Teddy was two, cancer.

This, I think, was what _broke the camel's back_, so to say. After the funeral, Harry packed his bags and left with Teddy in tow, saying goodbye to Britain, and fled the Wizarding World. Yes, I believe it's appropriate to say _fled_. He left without telling anyone where they were going, in the middle of the night, no note, no nothing. See? I think _fleeing _is very much the appropriate word.

To say they got a shock when they found him gone is an understatement. And although they may not have known were he was going, I do. We were to cross paths, you see, years in the future, and that's how I became aware of his story. Why I'm telling you? Goodness only knows. I guess I'm too good for my own good. Why you're still listening? Well, that's still a mystery. But stay with me and I shall tell you a story about the _real _Harry Potter, and just what happened to him in the Land of the Stars and Stripes.

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_**A/N: **_Thanks for reading and if you can, please review. You can even if you don't have an account. :)


	2. Chapter 1

**_A/N: _**A long awaited chapter, huh guys? See you at the bottom.

**Chapter 1: A large double chocolate sundae**

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If there was anything, anything at all that was to blame for the way things went, it was the hair. Well hair and damn ice-cream.

Harry understood it wasn't his fault, that he wouldn't control his appearances all the time, he was only a child after all. Most of the time, no one noticed anyway, how his face morphed from heart-shaped to pointed, how his eyes flashed and changed when he was angry, how he somehow managed to be three inches taller than he was yesterday. It was always just the hair.

It was the hardest thing for him to control, as it often reflected his emotions. _He didn't mean_ for it to turn blood-red when that boy from the third grade insulted him. _He didn't mean_ for it to turn a deep electric blue that time when his morphing abilities stuck and refused to work. _He didn't want _Harry to have to use crazy excuses to explain _why_ his son's hair remained like that for a whole week. _And he certainly hadn't meant_ for it to change so suddenly as he sat in that park, sparking the immediate curiosity of one extremely perceptive man.

So yes, the hair was to blame.

* * *

Dean Winchester was tired. Tired of everything. His life just never seemed to be right these days, did it?

He too had once thought that when war ended, his life would get better. That the days were he spent his time driving from state to state, looking for somebody to help, would end. But he was wrong.

Sure he'd been happy for a while with Lisa and Ben. A normal, happy life was all he'd ever wanted, right? But Dean soon realised that it wasn't. He was a hunter at heart, and no one could take that away from him, not even himself. No ordinary life would cut it for him.

So with a new and promising trail, he left. Again.

He travelled south to Texas, refusing to look back at the life he'd left behind, and while there, he came across the biggest shock of his lifetime: his brother Sam.

Neither were sure how he managed to climb out of Hell, but Dean had a funny feeling it had something to do with his God.

After much shouting, some tears and one, big hug, the Winchester's brothers were reunited at last.

So why, six months later, was Dean Winchester tired? Well, I guess you'd be tired too if you were chasing a mysterious, powerful, incredibly awesome being like myself. Yes I am that awesome, and no I'm not vain. It's only true. As the Winchester boys were finding out, trying to catch me, is like trying to catch a tiger with a mouse trap. Do you get the idea?

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Dean Winchester walked into the cool diner, desperate to escape the scorching heat of a Californian summer. He hated to admit it, but the heat was starting to get to him. They'd appeared in San Francisco a week ago, to investigate the suspicious murders of three respectable men in a bar on the outskirts of the city, right in the middle of a heat wave.

He walked up to the counter and ordered a coffee, the only strong thing served in the place so early in the afternoon. The waitress smiled warmly at him but he ignored her, sitting on one of the high stools at the counter, waiting for her to return.

I hope you're paying attention. This scene is very important, practically the start of all the mayhem that is to follow. Why?

Not a minute later, the door of the diner opened and in walked a little boy. To Dean, he didn't look anymore than six or seven years old as he skipped up to the counter in his tiny navy uniform. Dean chuckled to himself as he noticed that the kid's forehead didn't even reach the top of the counter.

"Can I help you?" the waitress inquired, glancing down at the boy after giving Dean his coffee. The boy rocked on his heels, humming a tune softly.

"Can I have a large double chocolate fudge Sundae, please?" he asked looking at the woman innocently.

"Uh, okay." she replied uncertainly. "Sit in or take out?"

The kid thought for a second. "Take out."

"I'll be back with that in a second."

The waitress disappeared again, leaving the boy just standing there. Dean inspected him carefully. He was small and thin with shaggy black hair that floated down past his ears but stopped just before his shoulders. His face was heart-shaped, and his eyes a pale shade of grey. Quite the handsome little kid, Dean decided.

The waitress came back, carrying a big bowl of ice-cream. The kid's face lit up as she set it on the counter before him.

"That'll be $5.50 please."

Still in awe of the ice-cream, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a couple of coins and gave them to the woman.

"This is only a dollar. The ice-cream costs _five_ dollars, _and_ fifty cent!" she exclaimed angrily, after counting out the coins. The boy just shrugged, causing Dean to laugh.

"Well no money, **no ice-cream**!" she said, trying to snatch back the bowl but the kid was to fast.

"Too late. You already gave it to me, you can't have it back!"

"Give it to me, brat!"

"No, it's mine now!"

The waitress went to grab the boy angrily, but luckily Dean stopped her.

"Relax woman. I'll pay for the kid. Here." he threw the correct amount on the counter, plus a little extra. She finally stopped screaming, but Dean could tell she was still furious. He turned to the kid.

"Come on, let's go eat your sundae outside before she starts again."

* * *

Dean laughed again. He loved listening to the kid talk, it was a refreshing break from hunting. And besides, the kid was a funny evil genius.

"What was your name again, kid?" he asked, lying back against the trunk of a tree and allowing his eyes to slip closed. They had made their way to a park, just a couple minutes walk away from the diner, one of the boy's favourite hang-out spots.

"Teddy." he answered, eating another spoonful of ice-cream.

"Teddy? Like Teddy-Bear?"

Teddy groaned. "Don't call me that! I _hate _it! My dad _always_ does. Teddy bears are for girls and babies."

Dean smiled. "Where's your dad now?"

"At work. He's really busy at the moment."

"What does he do?"

"He writes for a newspaper." Teddy said proudly. "He's really good at- OUCH!"

Dean's eyes fluttered open immediately. "Kid? You okay?"

Teddy held his hand painfully. "A bee just stung me!" he yelled furiously, tears pricking at his eyes.

But Dean's eyes weren't watching Teddy's hands. Instead, they were watching his hair, which had just turned blood red.

Teddy stopped whining when he saw Dean staring. "Dean? What's wrong?"

"Your, your…_hair_-"

Teddy froze. He was in trouble and he knew it. _No one_ was supposed to see his hair change. Dad was going to kill him.

Shaking his head, he morphed his hair back to black and stood up. Leaving Dean and the remainder of his ice-cream behind, he ran.

Poor Teddy.

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**_A/N: _**It's been forever right? Sorry, this month was just so busy for me, so i haven't wrote much. You'll be happy to know that i have down a lot of researching and planning for this fic though, and have come out with some good stuff for you later on. The narrator is no longer an OC, but she is not from either fandom. All shall be revealed. :) And just to let you know, since i started before it did, i'm going to ignore season 6 of SPN. Sorry, but i think it's just easier that way guys.

So what did you think of this chapter? I don't really like it and i think it's bad. Thanks for reading guys and thanks to everyone who reviewed! Sorry i didn't have time to reply to you all but i really appreciated it. I love all of you! And if anyone has time, i would love a review. Thanks.


	3. Chapter 2

**_A/N: _**Warning! Short and crappy chapter ahead.

**Chapter 2**: **Sports Journalist**

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So…where did I leave off last time? Oh yes, Teddy fleeing the scene after accidentally changing his appearance in front of Dean Winchester. Let's skip forward to the next day shall we? Or the next evening, I should say, when Sam and Dean went and tracked down a certain journalist and his son.

"This is stupid." Sam Winchester said, turning away from the door to face his brother.

"No it's not, we're chasing a lead. Nothing wrong in chasing a lead, Sammy. Now press the stupid doorbell." Dean replied, fidgeting awkwardly with his jacket.

"There's not if it's a reliable lead!"

"Are you saying I'm not reliable Sam?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying! You think you saw some kid change his hair!"

"Oh come on Sam! I know what I saw!"

"I still think you were drinking but won't admit it."

"I WASN'T. How many times do we have to got through this?"

"As many times as it takes."

"As what takes? Look. Just have a little faith in your brother here. If I'm wrong, I'm wrong. What does it hurt chasing this up?"

"Only precious time we could use to catch the murderer in."

Dean scoffed and waved a hand dismissively. "We've plenty of time for that later. Now come on. Ring the doorbell."

Sam sighed. "Why do I have to do it? You press it!"

"Because I'm the oldest and I told you to."

Sighing again, Sam stepped forward and pushed the bell, listening as it went off inside the house. The brothers waited in silence for someone to answer.

About a minute later, the door opened and out stepped a young man with longish black hair and bottle green eyes. The Winchester's were also surprised at how close in age he looked to themselves.

"Can I help you?" he asked, leaning on the doorframe. Sam and Dean exchanged a look.

"Are you Harry Black?" Sam inquired politely, smiling at him.

"I am. And you would be?"

"Oh well my name's Sam and this is my brother Dean. We're actually big fans of your columns in the newspaper. We were actually wondering if we could talk to you about it."

Harry's eyebrows rose. "I write the sports column. Hardly Pulitzer Prize stuff."

"But what a damn fine column it is." Dean answered, smiling weakly.

"Mr. Black, may we come in and discuss your career with you? We're just, so _eager_ to learn more about it. We are aspiring journalists you see."

Eying them warily, he moved back inside. "Sure then, come in."

Sam and Dean entered the house cautiously, following Harry into the kitchen. They both sat down at the table, while Harry stood opposite them, watching them closely.

"So. What do you want to know about my job?"

"Oh. So how did you get into journalism?" Sam asked, having previously decided with Dean that he would do the majority of the talking. A wise decision. Knowing Dean, he'd royally stuff things up.

"Well it was kind of just by accident really."

"You don't have a degree, or anything?"

"God no. I didn't even finish school."

"So why journalism?"

"Why not journalism? Turns out I'm pretty good at it."

"Yeah, I can see-"

"Dad!" A young voice cut through the kitchen as the door swung open and in walked Teddy Black. "Where did you leave my chocolate bar? I want-"

The poor boy looked around and noticed for the first time the men in the kitchen with his father. He froze, poor little thing, when he saw Dean.

"Dad?" he said quietly, staring at Dean. "_Patronus_."

Immediately, Harry Black stepped forward, glaring at the Winchester brothers. "Out of my house, now."

Dean and Sam stood automatically, hearing the threat in the man's voice.

"What?" Dean yelled. "We didn't do anything!"

"You didn't have to. Now OUT. Before I throw you out myself."

The men made their way out of the kitchen quickly, happy to leave on their own terms. The front door was slammed behind them.

"Okay Dean I'll admit, _that_ was weird."

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**_A/N: _**I'm sorry it was crappy! Next chapter will be better. I hope. :S Not worth the long wait but *fingers crossed* next chapter will be up soon.

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed! You people really make my day and i love you all! Just to answer some questions:

**And why can't that kid wear hats? **Because sadly, the author was not smart enough to think of that. :)

**Well, my theory (though it's probably wrong) is that the narrator is War **Well that's a really smart theory Drama Freak, but no, she's not War.

**Question: Does the title of this chapter hold any referance to Little Lion Man from Mumford and Sons? **Yes, because i wrote the Pro while listening to it. If anyone does not know this song, go look it up! It's the whole inspiration for my fic "Dear Teddy" actually.

**But, why isn't at a slash? **I don't mind slash, but i can't write it for SPN after seeing how disgusted S&D were by it lol. :)

And lol, i love the "Teddy's inherited the Potter luck thing". At least 3 people said that.

Well, i'm sorry again for such crappiness, but if you can please review. I love them, all kinds bad and good so if you feel like flaming go ahead! I can take it. :)


	4. Chapter 3

**_A/N: _**Guess what? I'm not dead. Just a warning, this chapter fails. BADLY! It doesn't seem right to me and it's a terrible introduction to your narrator (yes she appears and is SO out of character). I'm so sorry, i just couldn't come out with anything else and i feel as if i owe you this much, even if it is bad. I have hope that in 2011 things will get better. Hope with me. :) It's not worth the long wait I've given you so I'm sorry. I hope you'll stick with me through these terrors though.

**Chapter 3: Saturday Night's All Right**

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It had been two weeks since Sam and Dean met Harry and after failing to become close to him again, they decided to focus on the real reason they were in San Francisco: the pub murders.

Little was known about the case, but the unusual circumstances were what had drawn the boys there in the first place. Four men in total had been found dead in _The_ _Lucky Leprechaun_, a dodgy little bar on the outskirts of the city. Each time, the deaths had been unique: one stabbed, one choked, one poisoned and one man spontaneously combusted (this one's my favourite). Each death had happened on different nights and all men had been seen associating with a woman but after that, the trail ran cold. To try and solve the case, the Winchesters had taken to sitting in the bar together every night for the past fortnight and, while they were there, there had not been one more death. Bored of sitting there all night, Dean was convinced that this was not one of their cases, and that maybe they should just leave. Sam however was adamant, and insisted they stay for at least another few days. Reluctantly, Dean agreed.

Now it just so happened that one night, when they were supposed to be off to the bar, Sam _conveniently_ began throwing up, leaving Dean to go alone. Maybe he should have just stayed at home that night. There _was_ a reason the murderer had stayed away all those nights. _Safety in numbers_...

* * *

I stood looking in the mirror of the bathroom, straightening my dark clothes and preparing for my shift, which was in half an hour. As I did so, Fergus, the owner of the pub and my current boss, walked in. He looked me up and down with satisfaction.

"So tonight's your last. We're going to miss you." I rolled my eyes at the sadness in his tone.

"No seriously, you do a great job taking care of those bastards. Are you sure you need to stop?"

I smiled, glancing at myself in the mirror again. "After tonight, you should be fine. I think I'm actually attracting you more trouble than taking care of."

"Nonsense. What would they want with you? _I'm _the important one."

I swatted at him playfully but he dodged me. "What I don't understand is why you couldn't have got rid of them yourself."

"But what fun would that be? Besides, I'm lazy. If I don't see you later, have a good life. Come visit me sometime in the next century, won't you? You ever need a favour?"

"I'll come straight to you, Fergus."

"That's my girl."

* * *

Dean Winchester was sitting at the bar, nursing a cold beer when I first met him.

"Can I get you something else?" I asked, approaching him from the opposite side, startling him so much that he ungracefully slopped some alcohol over himself. He glanced up at me and smiled.

"Well, I haven't seen you here before." he answered with a smile, absently trying to dry his jacket with some napkins. I _think _he was trying to be charming. Too bad charms like those don't work on _this _woman.

"I've been out sick for a little while."

"Awful shame."

I hid my desire to laugh behind a shy but flirty smile. "Come here often?"

"Just recently." Dean took a swig of his drink. "Been working on some business."

I nodded slowly, understandingly. "Of course. You're here about the murders."

"You know about those, huh?"

"Sure I do. San Fran may be a big city but news like that spreads like wildfire. And besides, I work here. Of course I know."

"Right." he said, looking away from me and playing with the placemats.

"It hasn't been all to good for business."

"I can imagine so."

"Yeah, no one wants to come to a pub infested with demons."

"_What_?" he asked incredulously, glaring up at me. I decided to play dumb, have a little fun.

"What? Did I say something wrong?"

"You said you're pub was infested with demons!"

"What?" I replied, laughing. "Demons? Have you been drinking too much, sweetie?"

"No, you said-"

"No, I said that no one wants to come to a pub with such a _bloody history_." Dean eyed me suspiciously, unconvinced. Not that I minded. He would find out the truth eventually, I just wanted to play with him first.

"What did you say your name was?"

"Sarah."

* * *

From the occasional looks I was getting, it was obvious that Dean distrusted me. After our first little flirt, he had retreated to the back of the bar, trying to keep a close eye on me, probably hoping I wouldn't notice, which was stupidity. I could feel his eyes every time.

It was after half past eleven when he finally got tired of watching.

"Hey, Sarah." he said cheerfully, sidling back up to the bar again, and sitting in front of me.

"Oh, hello. Didn't think you were still here."

"Well, just couldn't leave you, now could I?" I leaned over the counter and sighed dramatically. "I'm sorry to tell you this, kid, but I'm taken."

"Oh, really?" he replied in a sarcastic disappointment.

"No, that was a lie."

"I'm insulted."

"You should be. Get out of here."

"Why should I?"

"Bar closes in ten minutes."

"I've been here everyday for the past two weeks. Bar doesn't close 'til three-thirty on Saturdays." My eyes narrowed. "You know, I really thought you'd be smarter than this. Such a disappointment."

"Why?"

"Shouldn't you know better? To be out at this time?"

"What's so special about this time?"

"It's Witching hour in less than fifteen minutes."

He looked at me, his face furrowed in confusion. "What?"

I smirked at him. "You never heard of Witching? Did you really not think this place was strange? We get a lot of..._unusual_ customers in here and once twelve hits, they release their inhibitions, relax a little. They usually don't let mortals stay and watch, but who knows, maybe they'll make a little exception for you."

"But I've been here before, until closing time, and nothing has happened."

"Ah, yes, but things have been quite disturbed lately."

"Who are you?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"You're the one, aren't you?"

"The one you're destined to spend the rest of your life with? Sorry, no chance."

"The one who's been killing the men?"

I smiled broadly at him. "I haven't been killing any _men_. At least, not _recently_."

"Then explain their deaths."

I shrugged. "Must have been someone else."

I could see how angry he was with me right now as he glared. It was quite cute actually. He looked like a baby hedgehog trying to look threatening.

What he did next didn't surprised me. He pulled a gun out of his pocket and aimed it at me. I found it hard to not smile.

"Put it away, Dean. It won't help you."

"Oh I don't know. Blowing a hole in you might help my sanity."

"Killing, or _attempting _to won't help you. You won't get out of here alive."

"What does that mean?"

"You've been stupidly distracted tonight Dean, but I suppose I can take most of the blame for that. I'm not who you need to be worried about right now."

"_And just who is?_"

"Demons." I murmured casually, looking at a point over his shoulder where a man from one of the nearby tables had just stood up and started approaching us. Dean watched from the corner of his eye.

"You're a demon?" he muttered, keeping an eye on the coming threat.

"One of those assholes? No way."

"Then what are you?" "'Tis my business and mine alone."

"Then why are you here?"

"The owner called me to help deal with his _spiritual_ problems. Those four men you were trying to help? They haven't been as _innocent _as they'd like you to think."

He opened his mouth to ask something but the man had reached us. Dean turned around to face him, obviously doing some very quick thinking.

"Dean Winchester?" the man asked, smiling now. Dean's brows rose.

"Who's asking?"

"I've got a message from a friend."

The man moved so fast that neither Dean nor myself had good enough time to react. Unable to stop the blade which was on course for the hunters life, I tried moving him to the right. Not quick enough.

The demon's knife ploughed into his left shoulder, making him growl in pain. He stumbled in his seat as I ripped the knife out of the wound before the demon could.

"WHAT THE HELL?"

The demon must have been thinking the same thing as he ignored Dean and turned to me. I ducked under the bar for a moment and grabbed a bottle of whiskey. Opening it quickly I threw it over the demon. He growled in anger.

"What the hell was that? Whiskey is _not _going to stop him!" Dean said frantically, reaching for the gun he'd pointed at me earlier, which had slipped onto the floor.

"Just you watch it." I murmured, reaching into my pocket I brought out the lighter I carried in case of emergencies. I think this may count as one.

Lighting it, I threw it at the demon, willing it to burn and at once he caught fire. He screamed and at that moment, all hell broke loose in the bar. It had been eerily quiet before, probably because the drinkers had been watching the show with interest. Now, they wanted to get in on some action.

Dean watched as the demon melted in the flames, not seeming to notice the uproar among everyone else. "Wow, whiskey. Who woulda thought?"

He winced again as I grabbed his shoulder. "You need to go."

"Why? Things look like they're starting to get interesting." He had noticed now, the fights breaking out in all corners.

"Exactly. They're going to deal with the demon in their own special way."

"What are they?"

"Creatures, of every kind. They despise demons, just one of the reasons they're bad for business. You've probably killed some of their friends before and once they're done with _him_ they'll come for_ you._"

"How do I get out?"

"There's a back exit, just behind me and through the kitchen. It'll lead you out into an alleyway." "Right." he mumbled, supporting his shoulder in one hand before leaping over the bar and heading for the door.

"Hey Winchester?" I called after him.

"What?"

"You still owe me one."

He never did ask how I knew his name.

* * *

**_A/N: _**I wanna say here how thankful i am to everyone who has reviewed my story. Believe me when i say you're the only reason i haven't quit yet.

There was some awesome reviews left last chapter (you know who you are :) and i just want to say thanks for being honest and constructive. The only way i can improve is it if people tell me what to do/not do, so thanks again. :)

Well that's it for now. Happy New year everyone! Thank you for reading and if you have the time, please review.


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